


Needle

by Noble_Savage



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, brief mentioning of several other characters but nothing too in depth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-07-25 19:02:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7544227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noble_Savage/pseuds/Noble_Savage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The fates and destiny never seemed to be on Washington's side. This is only further proven in Chorus when Washington fails... Again.</p><p>(aka I don't know how to do summaries and I only have some idea as to where this is going atm)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

David Washington could not be classified as normal; he’d seen too much of the world and knew too much hardship to be normal. He’d been belittled and pushed around by everyone he’d known; his friends, his family, his coworkers, and it had come to a point where he’d lost the spark he once had in his eyes. What was once a sweet, naive boy was now a bitter man just trying to make it through the day.

David Washington had seen many things in his life: A mother who had died due to a war she shouldn’t have been fighting in, a father who had turned to alcoholism, a sister who was bent on proving to her father she was the best, and a best friend who had slowly turned insane. Hell he’d had his own dip into insanity: six months in an institution before he was dragged out to be used for hunting, like a dog. Even when it seemed to be that his life had appeared to be going well, David would not be allowed happiness; he had thought he finally found somewhere he had belonged: a group of misfits who needed a leader, yet even they didn’t seem to be inclined to want the man. Maybe he wouldn’t mind so much had he not tried so much. He’d tried to be a good son, and all that helped him with was being ignored; he tried to be a good soldier, yet he was still classified as the worst freelancer in his squad; he tried to be a good friend, but even then he hadn’t been able to spot his friend slowly losing all control of his body, and mind; and he tried to be a good leader, but he was just barricaded out of everything the Blue Team was.

Damn it all, did he try to be a leader, but even then, not only was he singled out, but he’d managed to lose his entire damn team to the enemy.

As Washington stalked among the surrounding walls of his temporary reside he couldn’t help the anger that boiled inside him. When he’d awoke from the small battle, he was in an unknown place surrounded by the Reds: or at least what was scavenged from the battlefield. As he began to familiarize himself with those who had supposedly rescued them he was told of the horrors of the war: the horrors of the rebels. He had to walk in order to keep his cool around his new “allies” (if he could call them that), but even as he evened his breath he couldn’t keep the ever present rage from surfacing. Before he could stop himself his fist was connecting with a wall, and a long, low growls slipped from the back of his throat. His breathing became rigid, and all too suddenly his head started to spin.

“Is there a problem, Agent Washington?” Wash’s head snapped in the direction of the voice, and in a blink of an eye grey and green armour was slammed against the wall, enlarging the already cracked surface. 

“You seem to be my only problem,” the smaller man growled, pressing him farther into the wall, “This whole damn planet’s been my problem. Ever since we arrived it’s been one shit storm after the next.”

“I’m sorry Agent Washington, but I don’t see how that’s my problem.”

Washington’s gripped tightened, pressing Locus further into the wall, “I swear to all things holy I will rip your throat out.”

Within an instant, a flash of grey sprung up, and Wash was gritting his teeth as pain shot through his arm; Locus’ grip was tight on his wrist as the mercenary’s faceless mask stared Wash down. Wash stared back. Soon he gave in, releasing his hold, ripping his hand away from Locus’ killer grip, hissing as he began rubbing the now tender skin, slowly. There was a small thud as Locus’ feet hit the ground, and suddenly a small overcast was above Washington’s form. Within an instant Wash was pulled close by Locus, helmet inches away from Locus’ own, and he could swear even through the mask he could feel Locus’ breath.

“I don’t know what has gotten into you, Agent Washington, but I assure you, I don’t take threats lightly,” The ex-freelancer was stiff, not sure if responding was the best idea. After minutes of silence, and staring, the smaller man nodded and with that his feet were granted security on the ground. He watched as the other man walked away, shaking his head, and decided he needed to find the red team members in order to devise a plan to rescue their fellow comrades, trapped in the opposing base.


	2. Chapter 2

The “rescue” mission went just about as well as anything else in Washington’s life. To blatantly state it: they had been tricked, and now it was all they could do to run. Agent Washington couldn’t hear anything his fellow freelancer, nor teammates, were saying to him as his heartbeat raced in his ears and Felix’s words rang throughout his mind. This would turn out to be his downfall as a shot lodged itself into his shoulder, and an explosion bursted to his left, the heat blast rushing over his form. Washington heard the faint call of Carolina’s voice, concern etched into its tone. After that, Wash gave in, letting his eyes close, and feeling himself being lifted off the ground as unconsciousness settled in.

The next few hours consisted of Washington coming in and out of consciousness, an occasional voice making a rumble in the ex-freelancer’s ear; nothing that the man could make out but it was enough noise to keep him awake for a short period of time. Finally he was awoken by someone lifting him into a sitting position, his back pressed against a cold, hard wall; his eyes slowly made their way open and he blinked, trying to focus on whoever it was in front of him. Wash’s brow furrowed as he saw the familiar grey armour, but he wasn’t expecting the face that accompanied it. The dark dreads of hair were loosely tied into a bun, a few had broken free, framing sharp features on rich, dark skin. The only abnormalities were the large scar that ran across his eyes, as well as a deep cut that traveled from his cheek down his jaw. At the realisation of who was manhandling him Washington began to squirm, though he was quickly stopped by a searing pain bursting through his left side and a firm grip to his shoulder: Not rough, but authoritative. Still hurt due to the gunshot wound. A scowl set across the smaller man’s features and when pale blue met amber eyes the annoyance from the mercenary only furthered to sour Washington’s expression.

“Unless you’d like to reopen your wounds, I suggest you calm down,” after a brief stare down the older man sighed, shaking his head and ran a hand over his hair, “I promise you, Agent Washington, I don’t plan to harm you. I’m trying to help.” Washington remained unconvinced. His suspicions weren’t eased as he felt hands undoing his suit. He ignored the pain shooting throughout his body as he tried to pry himself away from the other’s grip, only being stopped from his efforts when he heard a growl that was soon followed by a tight grip in his hair.

His eyes widened, a small whimper escaping his lips as his mind wrapped around the situation. A hand. In his hair.

No.

In his 30 years of life 12 years of that time was spent living behind that helmet.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't been keeping up with RvB season 14, so if there are contradictions or something that's why. I'm going to be completely honest, I have a view of the characters and if they don't match up with canon, sorry, but... sucks I guess.


End file.
